


High Hopes

by fridaysblues (taemin)



Series: High Hopes [1]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, An Older Boyfriend Is Not Automatically "Daddy", First Time, M/M, Nobody Calls Anyone Daddy, Nobody's Financially Supporting Anyone, Not Quite Underage But Toeing That Line, This Is Not Even Fake Age Gap, Warning: Kris, this is NOT daddy kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-01 00:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3999046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taemin/pseuds/fridaysblues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun's got it bad for the guy on the subway. Too bad Mr Handsome's in college and Sehun's a few months away from <i>legal</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High Hopes

Sehun nearly misses his train that morning. He swings into the car seconds before the doors close, forcing a crush of bodies aside as he works his way down the aisle in search of— _him_. He breathes a sigh of relief, hands still trembling from exertion. _There he is again._

He's always on the number two line at this hour. Mr Handsome: tall with a tapered jaw and soft, brown hair. Looks like he's probably a university student. Usually sitting in a window seat, listening to music on his phone, head bobbing along with the beat. Sehun's tried to inch close enough to catch a glimpse of the screen, looking for something to strike up a conversation— _Oh, hey, you like Dok2? Me too,_ he practices in the mirror every morning, eyes wide with forced astonishment.

It never happens, though.

For one, they're never the only ones on the train. It's always packed like this—every car packed to the doors with a rush of morning commuters. It also doesn't help that Sehun's overcome with crippling shyness every time the guy glances his way. The one time they'd made eye contact, he'd turned to the ajumma next to him, blushing furiously as he asked her what time it was. She'd pointed to the phone in his hand and asked him if he was stupid.

Which, he supposes, he kind of is.

 _Not today, though,_ he vows, sliding into the three inches in between Mr Handsome and some businessman who looks thoroughly _pissed_ to have a lap full of some skinny fucking high school kid. Sehun ignores the dirty looks and pulls out his phone, shoots off a few pointless texts to his best friend, Kim Jongin: _man, fuck public transit. it smells like feet ㅠㅠㅠㅠ_ and _jongin-ah i hope you didn't sleep through your alarm again this morning!!!_

Mr Handsome takes the bait. Sehun makes it through a song and a half until the guy's tugging his earbud out, mouth quirked in a wry smile.

"You know, there's really not any room here," he says, so close that the heat from his mouth warms the shell of Sehun's ear. Sehun feels a shiver traverse the entire length of his body. _It's too late to back out now. Don't chicken out—you're never going to get another shot at this._

He looks Mr Handsome directly in the eye. "I could sit in your lap, if that's easier."

Mr Handsome blinks a few times as though he's trying to process what the fuck he just heard. Sehun's two seconds away from making a run for it when the guy breaks into a reluctant grin. "Fine," he agrees, pulling Sehun up onto his thighs without further preamble. Sehun yelps, hand reaching out to catch at the support rail past Mr Handsome's arm, clings like a beetle to a stalk of grass swaying in the wind as the train accelerates around a bend, passengers leaning with it.

Sehun hadn't thought this one through to its logical conclusion. Every occupant of the car is staring at them right now and Sehun can't even hide his face anywhere because he's a full head above everyone else seated next to him. He feels his cheeks burn hot, avoids the curious stare of the old man across the car and lowers his eyes to the laces on his sneakers.

"Was this really your plan?" Mr Handsome murmurs into the back of his jacket. "Couldn't have just said hello? Asked me to move over?"

"I'm fine," Sehun lies, clenching his hands around his kneecaps. "This is comfortable for me."

"So," Mr Handsome continues, "since you're sitting on my lap and all—I'm Kris. You are? I see you're in a uniform, so I've just got to know—exactly how many laws am I breaking right now?"

Sehun frowns. It's not that the question isn't valid, but he finds he's irritated anyway—like Kris should just _know_ he's not a kid, should recognize he's closer to graduation than not. "I'm a third year," he says finally, hedging. It's true but it's not the full story—the full story is, _I'm a third year, but I won't be turning nineteen until April and won't be an adult, officially, for another month after that._

Kris hums thoughtfully to himself without saying anything else but his hands retreat back to his pockets, away from where they'd been holding Sehun's thighs steady during the turns.

Sehun rides the train three stops past where he needs to get off to go to school. He's too fucking embarrassed to get up—not to mention, Kris's bony lap is actually kind of comfortable, now that his ass has gone completely numb, anyway.

The train shudders to a halt and Kris nudges him gently out of his lap with the back of his hand, unhinges his knees and rises to his feet. Sehun narrowly suppresses the urge to gasp when Kris shoulders his backpack and has to look _down_ at Sehun to talk to him (he's never felt so fucking young in his life as he does right this second). "I'm not sure where you're going, since I know you missed your stop—but this one's mine and I've got to get to class," Kris says. He smiles, so Sehun doesn't feel too shitty.

"I'm—uh—this is my stop, too."

"Really." Kris gives him a hard look.

"Really." Sehun wets his lips with a flick of his tongue, watches Kris's eyes as they follow the movement. Fizzing satisfaction spreads out to fill his chest cavity. "I swear. I'm not following you. It's just a coincidence."

Kris sighs, steps aside to allow Sehun past. "Fine. Come on." 

Once they're out of the station, Sehun trails along obediently behind Kris. He does a tiny jig of excitement when he thinks Kris isn't looking, but he fails to take into account the gigantic storefront window that reflects his celebratory dance in all its awkward, gangly splendor.

"Are you really _dancing_ right now?" Kris asks, stopping to look at him.

Sehun manages his best pokerface. "Dancing? No. I—there was a bee."

"A bee," Kris repeats. "Really."

"Yeah."

He shakes his head and turns back around. "I hope you don't follow me all the way to class."

"I won't," Sehun assures him. Then, after a moment: "Why not?"

Kris laughs. "Because—you're enough of a distraction when I'm _not_ trying to pass this lit exam."

"I'm a distraction?" Sehun lights up, hands clasped with delight.

"Yeah. And you're going to continue to be a distraction until you find someone your own age," Kris informs him. "Get out of here."

Sehun's shoulders slouch, disappointment weighing heavy. "Come on. I'm not _that_ young—"

"You're in school."

"So are you!" Sehun points out. He knows he sounds petulant, manages to stop himself before he stomps his foot and completes the picture of a child's temper tantrum. That's all he needs to do in front of Kris.

"Not the same thing at all, and you know it!" Kris turns around, arms akimbo. "Don't be a smartass. Kid—"

"Sehun," Sehun supplies helpfully.

"—Sehun, whatever. _No._ " He puts a gigantic hand on Sehun's shoulder and Sehun almost swoons. _He's close enough that I can smell the soap he uses—is that cologne? Jesus, he smells great—_

"Look, I'll be nineteen soon—couple of weeks. And I'll be in university next year!" Sehun assures him. "I'm really not _that_ young. I just have a baby face."

There's something in Kris's expression that Sehun can't quite place, something shuttered, guarded. "Trust me," he says. He squeezes Sehun a little bit and lets his hand drop to his side. "You're very young."

 

Sehun has to wait fifteen minutes for the next train back to school. He's so late that when he slides into his seat next to Jongin, they've already finished roll call and are fifteen minutes into a lesson on proofs that Sehun knows he's going to find difficult. 

Sehun watches in dismay as the teacher writes his name on the board under _DETENTION_ and continues with the lesson as though he hadn't just disrupted the class by panting through the doorframe after the bell had rung. 

"Hey, jackass. You were supposed to meet me at the station. What the hell happened?" Jongin hisses when the teacher turns his back. "I thought something had happened to you. I nearly called your mom."

"I'm glad you didn't," Sehun says out of the corner of his mouth. He shrugs. "I spaced out, missed my stop."

"You've been taking the train to school for years and never missed a stop," Jongin says, squinting suspiciously. "Why today? What happened?"

Sehun blurts out the first excuse that comes to mind. "Up late watching a new video," he lies. "I got it off my brother's hard drive—"

"Oh?" Jongin leans forward so quickly that his chest slams into his desk. It inches forward with the sudden force of Jongin's body, the sound jarring and shrill in the quiet classroom. Jongin drops his pen just in time for it to look plausible when the teacher turns around and calls his name.

"Kim Jongin?"

"Sorry, sir. Dropped my pen."

"Need to stay after school with Mr Oh and practice holding onto it?" He scribbles Jongin's name in under Sehun's. Jongin groans and slumps back into his chair.

"Damn. Worth a shot, I guess."

Sehun rolls his eyes. He's going to be late for dinner again. One of these days, his parents really are going to kill him. 

 

It's dark when Sehun finally gets back on the train to go home. Days are still short heading into March, streets still lined with a fine, gritty slush that seems to be more dirt than snow with each passing day. 

His heart catches in his throat and nearly chokes him when he sees Kris's familiar face blinking sleepily from the back row of seats, eyes half-shaded by the brim of a snapback.

"Oh," Sehun says, awkwardly raising a hand in greeting. "Hi."

The car's empty, bathed in a flickering, dim light. Everything's hazy and yellow—Sehun considers that he's still at school, balled up on the mats in the gymnasium taking a nap, that this is just a dream that he will wake from, mouth cottony, and wish for a few more minutes. He pinches himself. It hurts. It's not a dream.

Kris looks around. "Looks like my lap is safe," he quips drily, pulling his bag into it like he's not so sure it is.

Sehun laughs a little too hard at the joke, eases himself into the row ahead of Kris and stares straight ahead as the train lurches forward into the tunnel.

Kris breaks the silence after a long curve, still looking out the window at the tunnel lights as they hurtled past. "So."

Sehun whips around like he's been burned. "Yeah?" His exaggerated response time seems to startle Kris who just _stares_ , mouth agape.

"Uh—" He blinks a few times and Sehun can see his mind working double-time trying to catch hold of his thoughts. "How was school today?" he blurts, finally. Sehun guffaws.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"You sound like my dad."

"I'm old enough to be," Kris shoots back, running his hand along the brim of his cap. Sehun makes a decision, reaches out, and plucks it from Kris's head.

"You are not," he says, mashing it over his hair. "Don't be creepy. I like this hat. Where'd you get it?"

Kris shrugs. "Campus shop, I dunno."

 

It continues like this—Sehun needling away at Kris until he's peeling away some of the layers of mystery he's got surrounding him. International student from Canada, fluent in who the fuck even knows how many languages, interested in basketball and music, wants to work as a translator something something (Sehun always tunes out at this part, he's too busy watching Kris's tongue wet his lips and imagining how nice they'd look around his cock— _oops_ ).

Kris asks questions, too, learns Sehun between lurches of the train—his family, his older brother, Sehun's uncertainty about his own future. "Maybe you need to change the way you're approaching it. Is there something you like?" Kris asks one day. "Something you want to be a part of your life every day?"

"You," Sehun replies without missing a beat. Kris rolls his eyes.

"Anything else?"

Sehun pretends to think about it for a second, runs a long finger down his chin and taps his lower lip. "Nope," he decides. "That should do it."

Kris laughs despite himself.

 

The weather slackens, the first teasing spring winds blowing through the city. Winter coats are left behind, traded for light jackets. Kris shows up every morning wearing things with zippers and buttons that Sehun has to resist the urge to touch, undo. April comes, and with it, Sehun's nineteenth birthday (" _Finally,_ " he wheezes to Jongin, who'd turned nineteen back in January and behaved as though the entire thing was beneath him now he was an _adult_ ). When Sehun swings onto the train, Jongin in tow, he stops short at the sight of Kris, sitting in his usual corner seat, a fucking gift-wrapped box sitting on his lap. He seems taken aback that Sehun's not alone and tries to hide the box but it's too late—Sehun's spotted it, zeroes in on it, hands outstretched.

"Hyung? Is that for me?"

"Hm? Oh—it's—yeah, I'm—it's nothing, I'm—"

"Give," Sehun says simply, plopping down in the seat next to Kris. Jongin hovers awkwardly, both hands clenched around the straps of his backpack. Sehun waves in Jongin's direction with a flippant hand.

"Jongin, Kris. Kris, Jongin."

"Hi," Jongin mutters. "You're the college guy, right?"

If he were uncomfortable earlier, Kris looks as though he'd rather curl into his own body and disappear than continue this particular conversation. "Yeah," he says finally, voice thin. "I guess that's me."

"Don't worry, I told him you wouldn't fuck me," Sehun says, watching out of the corner of his eye with an amused smirk as the color drains from Kris's face.

"Christ. Can you—not? Maybe?"

"What, did you change your mind? Should I tell him we did?"

" _Jesus_ —" Kris yelps. Sehun laughs, lets him fret for a moment longer before he puts his hand on Kris's forearm and squeezes.

"I'm just kidding, don't have a heart attack." He jerks his head towards Jongin, who's leaning against the vertical bar at the end of the seat, eyes trained out the window, steadily avoiding eye contact with either Sehun or Kris. "Jongin's my best friend. I just like to make him squirm sometimes."

"And me?" Kris mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. 

"I like it when your face does that thing—yeah, _that_ ," Sehun says, thumbing at Kris's chin. Kris dips his head away, fighting off a smile (and mostly failing, to Sehun's delight) and gestures at the present.

"Just fucking open it—I'm already regretting this."

Sehun smooths away the last fold of paper, sticks the last piece of tape to Kris's shoulder and pulls out—

"A snapback?" he says, holding it at arm's length to inspect it. "Wow. This is just like—"

"It is," Kris says quietly. "You liked it a lot—I don't know, it's stupid, here, forget it—" He reaches to take it back but Sehun leans out of the seat to cram the hat on his head, grinning.

"Thanks, hyung. I love it."

Kris colors with pleasure, bows his head a few times and avoids looking Sehun in the eye. "Good. Good."

 

Sehun had hoped that the birthday incident would lead to something else, maybe a handjob—honestly, by now he's fucking desperate for Kris to touch him and doesn't particularly care how he does it. He's smitten, loves his stupid jokes and the excited way he talks about his studies, lives for the way his eyes light up when Sehun sprints on the train seconds before the doors close. He's started keeping his bag on the seat next to him, saving it—pulls it away every time Sehun draws near, pats it like he needs to extend the invitation anymore. Sehun'd sit there, regardless.

It's Coming of Age Day, though—he's finally, officially, 100% a grownup—and he's complaining to Kris that morning on the train about his parents' propensity to _overdo_ things—waking him up with an armful of roses, the stupid _cake_ they'd special-ordered for him, sitting at breakfast that morning with his spoon buried in his congee, brother on speakerphone as he chatters to Sehun about scheduling a visit to take him out as soon as university's finished for the year. Sehun hadn't really thought about it until then—Kris is _older_ than his hyung. _Jesus,_ he thinks, looking at his knees. _I'd never thought about it like that._

"Hey," Kris says, interrupting Sehun's complaints. "What are you doing—what are you doing later?"

Sehun doesn't even look up, picks at his cuticles a little. "I think Mom's having a party for the family, and then I might go out with Jongin, just—you know—for fun, maybe get something to drink, since I _can_ and all, now—"

"You, uh—" Sehun hears the change in Kris's voice, the weird, crackling rasp that settles itself in his vocal cords like he's completely dried out. He looks up curiously. "You want to come over?"

Sehun lets the invitation hang in the air for a moment. "Come over," he repeats.

"Yeah."

"To your place."

"Where else?" Kris asks, chuckling nervously. "Look, if you're busy—that's cool, maybe another night, I just—wanted to celebrate—it's dumb—" His voice hitches over the word _celebrate_ and Sehun realizes, all at once, what he means.

"Oh," he says, voice quiet.

"I'm—never mind," Kris mutters, pulling his leg away from where it'd been pressed against Sehun's. Sehun's thigh chases the warmth back to Kris.

"No—I—I mean, _yes_ ," Sehun says quickly, heart battering against his ribs like a caged bird. "Tell me where. I'll—I'll come by. I want to."

Kris grins, that stupid over-excited one where you see that his teeth are just slightly too small for his mouth. "Okay. Cool."

 

Sehun thinks he sets a world record finishing his cake that evening with his parents. He accepts the flowers, even sits still for a kiss from his mother ("Not the point, Mom," he protests, wiping the lipstick from his cheek) and disappears upstairs to pull into a fresh shirt and pair of jeans. He debates between two colognes, opts for a spritz of both just for good luck.

"Just you and Jongin tonight?" she asks, hovering in his doorframe as he spends fifteen minutes on one strand of hair, making sure he looks—well, _ready_.

"Mmm," he says. If he doesn't say _yes_ out loud then it feels less like he's lying to her—Jongin already knows to cover for him if his mother should call, but he's hoping to get away with this one. He pulls the snapback Kris gave him for his birthday over his head and endures his mother fussing with it, clucking about _what's the point of wearing a hat if you wear it backwards_ until finally he's granted a reprieve and he slips into the night, nervous with anticipation.

 

It takes ten minutes of gathering his courage before Sehun manages to knock on the door to Kris's apartment, six stops in the other direction from where he catches the train for school. He's got a bag packed—requisite shit: some lube, a handful of condoms (including a box of extra large ones Jongin had gifted him with some advice about _more lube than you think is fucking necessary, plus a handful_ —Sehun's not sure he wants to know the story behind that particular piece of advice).

Kris answers the door wearing a zip-up sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, hair mussed like he's been running his hands through it for the past half hour trying to calm his nerves. Sehun grins, takes a tighter grip on his bag, and pushes past Kris.

"Nice place," he says, kicking his shoes off at the door. Kris shrugs and follows Sehun's gaze—it's not bad, honestly, as student living goes. Maybe a little nicer than the place his brother's staying, plus it's a single. Sehun's relieved—mostly on Kris's behalf, if he's being honest. He knows Kris has been self-conscious about any sort of affiliation with someone Sehun's age since day one, and he doesn't want to cause trouble. If he doesn't want anyone to know, that's his business.

He catches Kris looking at him and poses his face into a smile. "What?" he asks.

"The hat," Kris says finally, reaching out to touch it like he's not sure he has permission. Sehun's endeared, feels a little strange as he puts his hand out and lets it rest on Kris's stomach. It's the first time he's touched Kris—other than the odd nudge with an arm or a leg, of course—and he lets his palm flatten across the zip like he's always been doing it, like it belongs there.

Kris doesn't move.

"I like it," Sehun says. 

"Me too," Kris replies. They're not talking about the hat anymore.

When Sehun hooks a leg around Kris's and pulls their bodies together on the couch he's not sure what's come over him. He's never—he's put his hand down Jongin's pants in the name of experimentation before but this is the first time he's had an honest-to-god crush on someone, the first time he's kissed someone he liked and had them kiss back, large hands steady and warm against the curve of his neck. He noses against Kris's ear, tugs the zip of the sweatshirt down with his left hand and hears the sharp intake of Kris's breath as he holds it behind his teeth, waiting for Sehun to make the first move.

"Can I?" Sehun asks. "I mean—do you—?"

"It's not—you—I like you," Kris says, hands growing still at the hem of Sehun's shirt.

"So? Yeah, I like you too," Sehun says, pushing his face forward. Kris sits back a little and holds his shoulders steady, looks him straight in the eye.

"No—I mean… I don't want to take advantage of you, Sehun. If this isn't—"

" _Please_." Sehun rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "Would I be here—Kris, I—I sat in your lap, I followed you around—"

"Yeah," Kris says quietly, tugging at the string on his sweatshirt. "You did."

"So—come on. Are you going to fuck me or not?"

Kris laughs, another one of his startled, nervous barks. "You—really don't waste any time, do you?"

"Hey, by my calculations, we've been wasting the past two months—"

"You want me to go to _jail_ —"

"You've used that excuse already. Try another," Sehun says, challenging Kris. He sticks his jaw out and lets his hands fiddle with Kris's belt until Kris comes to a decision, pushes Sehun back against the couch cushions, and takes over.

Sehun likes the way Kris undresses him, the weirdly reverent way he tugs Sehun's shirt over his head and just _looks at him_ for a moment with the fabric balled up in his fists, like he's the best thing Kris has ever seen. Sehun takes the brief pause to try to fix his hair. Kris knocks his hand away.

"Leave it," he rumbles. Sehun nods, watches the downswing of Kris's mouth and closes his eyes just in time to catch it, tongue fumbling against his teeth. 

For all his posturing, Sehun lets Kris lead—he's been dragging Kris kicking and screaming into this since he finally made the first move and he knows when to back off, to relinquish control. He's going to get what he wants—it's safe to move to the passenger seat, let Kris take the wheel (so to speak) for a little while. He doesn't even know what's going to happen after this, doesn't know what this all means in the grand scheme of things (or if it even means anything at all other than Sehun is very good at achieving his goals when he sets his mind to it). Kris is done with University, technically—he's probably moving on, soon. _But,_ he thinks, as Kris's hand palms his ass under his jeans and holds their bodies flush, _that is tomorrow's problem. Tonight—_

Sehun bucks his hips a few times into Kris's thigh.

"Off," Kris commands. Sehun nods, lets Kris pull his jeans off one leg at a time, thrusts his hands out blindly to pull at Kris's until he's tripping over himself trying to kick them off into a pile on the floor. 

Sehun shudders when Kris finally puts his hands on him, drags his boxers down by his thighs and wraps his hand around Sehun's erection like he's saying hello for the first time. Sehun mouths at the skin behind Kris's ear, knees bent around the arm of the sofa, and pushes his body closer, whines a little bit until Kris picks up the pace.

"You—" Kris pants into Sehun's shoulder. "I—"

"Come on," Sehun grunts, tugging at Kris's hips. "Do it."

Sehun's tried this a few times by himself but there's a difference when you're relinquishing control of your body to someone else. He shivers at the cold slick of lube against his entrance, lets Kris push a few fingers inside him and twist, drops his body against Kris's palm until Kris moves his hand and replaces it with his dick, heavy and smooth. 

Sehun's never felt so full—both literally and figuratively. Kris fucks him slowly, gently, almost like he knows Sehun's act was 90% bravado. He cups a hand around the back of Sehun's neck and pulls him in for a few slow kisses, nips at the pout of Sehun's lower lip at the same time he rocks himself back inside. He pushes to the hilt and holds himself there. Sehun moans Kris's name, drags it into eight syllables, nine, ten—heels digging into the small of Kris's back, one hand fisted around his cock. 

"You okay?" Kris asks, burying his nose in Sehun's cheek. Sehun arches his back in reply, grips at himself just a little tighter.

"Keep going," he urges just as Kris starts a slow roll of his hips that has Sehun keening and clutching at the hair at the crown of Kris's head just to _hold on_ —but he's so close, he doesn't think he can—

Sehun spills into his own hand and feels Kris follow, the aftershocks rippling through his body as Kris holds himself steady, eyes locked on Sehun's, something strange in his expression—almost fond, the way he wipes the trickle of sweat from Sehun's forehead and brushes his parted lips against the smooth skin. He pulls out and disappears over the side of the couch, returns a moment later sans condom, still naked. He flops down like his bones have melted and opens his arms for Sehun to _come here_.

Sehun crawls the rest of the way up the couch, feels his muscles liquify, form to the shape Kris is in. There's barely enough room for one person on here, let alone two—but somehow it works, almost like they're occupying the same space. Kris pulls Sehun in by the waist, eyes already half-lidded and drowsy. His skin is tacky with sweat, sticks to Sehun's in a way that should be uncomfortable but he's so soft, so warm—Sehun can't help but move closer.

"Hey," he murmurs, fingers curling over the ridge of Kris's collarbone. 

"Hi," Kris whispers quietly. A smile creeps across his face. Sehun presses a kiss against his jaw in response, feels Kris's fingers tighten against the outcropping of his hipbone and thinks that maybe some things are worth the wait.


End file.
